


London Eye: First Time

by abarelyfunctioning



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, London Eye - Freeform, M/M, One Shot, Oral Sex, Red Pants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-05
Updated: 2014-03-05
Packaged: 2018-01-14 16:39:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1273543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abarelyfunctioning/pseuds/abarelyfunctioning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and John go on the London Eye. They have sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	London Eye: First Time

**Author's Note:**

> Heads up: I've never written smut of any kind before and apparently, I'm not that good at it. But I tried.  
> If you want badly-written sexual content, proceed at your amusement.
> 
> Non-Beta'd, not Brit-picked.  
> I'm not familiar with the London Eye except what comes up on the first page of Google. The details may be wrong.
> 
> I don't own BBC Sherlock. I don't get anything out of this work.

Sherlock quirks up an eyebrow in surprise. “Wait, you’ve never been to the London Eye?”

John sits up straight. It’s not a shame for a Londoner to never have been to the giant Ferris wheel. There’s plenty of people who haven’t been to it, he thinks. “No. Never been,” He answers confidently. “I’m guessing _you_ have, then?”

Sherlock turns back to his laptop and continues typing away. “No. Never saw the point.”

“Then what was that on about, acting like everyone but me has been there?” John grunts.

“You’ve had a string of girlfriends and numerous dates in your lifetime. You’ve spent more than 60% of your life in London. I just assumed you’ve been to the famous landmark at least once. With a girlfriend. You enjoy wasting your brain capacity to learn pointless information - like the solar system. So why not the London Eye?” Sherlock never takes his eyes off the computer screen.

“I just never had the time and opportunity. I was going to take Mel- Hold on, no. I’m not going to talk about my past girlfriends with you.” John stops abruptly. “Besides, if I wanted to bore myself to death on a Ferris wheel, I’d rather have _you_ talk to me here. Much more convenient.” John chuckles quietly into his mug of earl grey. “How did this come up, anyway?”

“I need to know about it for a case,” Sherlock says tersely. "Hoped you could provide some insight."

End of conversation. John knows. He stares fondly at his flatmate/lover for a few more minutes and sets out for Tesco. They need milk. They always do. He should get 5 cartons this time. Maybe they’ll take up enough room in the fridge to prevent Sherlock from putting more bacteria-infested cow livers in it. And the milk will last a few more days than usual. He’ll see.

-

John gets back to Baker Street with 3 cartons of milk, shivering from the bitter November chill.

Looking longingly at the warmly-lit fireplace, he takes off his green coat. Sherlock comes up behind him and puts it back on.

“What- What now, Sherlock?” John whips around at the detective, fully dressed in his black coat and blue scarf. “Case?”

“Yes,” Sherlock replies and walks out the door. “Hurry up.”

John murmurs, “Why can’t you go alone for once? All I ask for is a nice cuppa and some warmth!” He grudgingly follows the tall man.

-

The consulting detective holds onto John like a small boy holds onto his teddy bear. Possessively. John’s face is uncomfortably buried in Sherlock’s broad chest, and he can’t see a thing other than the stitch patterns on Sherlock’s purple shirt. At least the detective smells like he’s fresh out of the shower.

The taxi finally stops and John breathes in the cold evening air as he steps out. The first thing he sees when he looks up: The brightly-lit London Eye. Its colors shift from blue to red, orange to pink. A sight that has never managed to impress John until now.

“What do we do?” he asks.

Sherlock wordlessly leads John to the ticket booth. He produces two printed tickets from his coat pocket and hands them to the grumpy teenager in the booth.

“Your reserved Capsule will be ready in 5 minutes, Mr. Holmes,” the boy tells Sherlock, eyeing John quite strangely.

They wait at the bottom of the wheel.

“You’ve reserved a capsule for us? Is that even possible? Why can’t we just take it with the other people?” John asks.

“And why would we do that?” Sherlock asks back.

“That’s what normal people do. How much was it anyway?”

“Uh! You with your normality. Why do you even bother with me if you love _normal_ so much, John?” Sherlock makes a disgusted face. “Besides, I refuse to solve my case with these boisterous tourists in a small space if I can help it. And look! I _can_ help it. It’s here.”

Sherlock gently pushes John into the empty capsule. John eyes the conspicuous bottle of champagne and the box of truffles suspiciously.

“Your Cupid’s Capsule, sir,” the usher tells Sherlock and closes the door behind him.

John’s brain stops for a second. “Cupid?”

“It’s the name of the capsule, John. Do keep up,” Sherlock answers abruptly and shuffles over to the end overlooking the Thames. “It’s the only one they offer for a 2-people party. Unless you would rather invite Lestrade or _Mycroft_ over for the Private Capsule. It’s more expensive.”

“No, no. This is fine,” John sighs and grabs the champagne bottle. _Pommery Brut Royal_ , it says on the label. He doesn’t usually drink champagne but he assumes this is pretty pricey. Wouldn’t want it to go to waste. He opens it and takes a swig.

“John!” Sherlock is looking at his lover, quite appalled.

“What? I’m allowed to drink this. You’ve paid for it, yeah? And it’s not like I’m the one to stay sober and solve a case,” John hurriedly blurts out his excuse.

“There are glasses right next to the truffles. Stop acting like an uncultured swine and use your resources,” Sherlock points out. “And get me some.”

John blushes a bit and pours each of them a glass, and joins Sherlock at the end of the booth. “What’s the case about?” he asks after handing the detective a glass.

Sherlock takes a sip and stares out at the slow-changing scenery of the London evening. John joins him and enjoys the view. Until he gets bored. He looks at his watch. It’s been 2 whole minutes since they’ve been inside. John regrets not having stayed at Baker Street. This isn’t a fun case and the situation isn’t going to change anytime soon.

“John,” Sherlock calls with an exceptionally-lowered voice.

John feels a shiver down his spine and looks up at his lover. Sherlock gulps down the rest of his alcohol and drops the glass to the ground. Thankfully, the floor’s carpeted and the glass doesn’t break. John quirks his head. Sherlock leans in and runs his soft tongue against John’s bottom lip.

This is it. They both know what it means when Sherlock initiates a kiss.

“Sherlock, shouldn’t we consider this to be public?” John gasps before Sherlock thrusts his tongue into John’s mouth. The booth is made mostly of glass and he can see the glimpses of people in the other capsules.

“Cupid’s Capsule, John,” Sherlock growls into John’s mouth. “ _Cupid_.”

John wraps his arms around Sherlock’s neck, and leans back. Sherlock gently grasps John’s back and lowers him to the ground. John hopes to God that no one sees them. But this is quite nice. Very nice, actually.

When his back hits the carpet, John takes off Sherlock’s coat as Sherlock fumbles with the zipper on John’s. Once the coats are off, the rest come off easily. They’ve had enough practice with the articles. Soon, they’re rubbing against each other stark naked, save for the blue silk around Sherlock’s long neck and the red pants straining against John’s growing bulge.

Sherlock removes his mouth from John’s and plants dry kisses down the doctor’s neck and chest. His tongue lingers at John’s risen nipples for a bit, and runs down to the ever-sensitive bellybutton. Sherlock kisses down the line of dark, curly hair that hides itself under the elastic white band. He smiles fondly at the bulge, covered in red, and runs his tongue along the fabric. The red becomes dark with his saliva and John’s pre-cum.

John moans and runs his left hand through Sherlock’s hair. “Take it out Sherlock. I want your mouth around me.”

Sherlock slides the pants off John’s stiff legs and leaves them hanging at the left ankle. The consulting detective licks his lips and runs his tongue along the pulsing vein of John’s erection. John groans loudly when Sherlock begins sucking at last, running his tongue along the shaft and fondling the scrotum with his long fingers.

“Sher- I’m coming,” John finally announces after a few minutes. “Have you brought the stuff?”

Sherlock takes his mouth off immediately, places his right thumb at the end of the penis to prevent any more excretion, and rubs John’s anus with his left middle finger. “Of course, John. How could I forget?” He grins at John’s weak smile. Without removing his middle finger, he produces a string of condoms and a bottle of STRAWBERRY FLAVOURED lubricant out of his discarded coat.

John chuckles at the condoms. “Exactly how many times are you planning on shagging here?”

Sherlock puts on a condom, then squirts a generous amount of the pinkish lubricant on his right hand before rubbing it along his own erection. “I didn’t have the time to bring just one, John. I shall write to the company and tell them to separate these out before putting them in the box.”

John rubs his own slippery penis and smiles at Sherlock’s pale face. “So just once then?”

“Once." Sherlock drags out the _sssss_  and slowly pushes himself into John’s tight opening.

“Mmm, yes. Yes, yes, yes,” John arches his back a little.

Sherlock leans into John’s open arms, and thrusts slowly and intimately. John’s legs are raised at Sherlock’s sides, with the red pants still dangling at the ankle. John looks up at the open purple sky. He sees an aeroplane fly across far above them. He wonders if they can see the lovers getting off in the glass capsule.

“John?” Sherlock pants.

“Sherlock?” John answers.

“Keep you eyes on me, John,” Sherlock groans harder.

John grabs the loose ends of the blue scarf and pulls the detective’s willing face in. Their lips meet and they moan into each other. Sherlock’s thrusting faster and faster. The red pants sway at the oncoming storm.

“Sherlock!” John’s hot cum covers his own stomach.

“Yes!” Sherlock’s limp penis pops out.

They lie on the carpet next to each other, panting. The sky is almost black.

-

“So… _Is_ there a case?” John asks as he puts on his jeans.

“There’s always a case, John.” Sherlock has already dressed himself and walks over to the bench to take the half-empty champagne bottle. “You. Always you. I wondered if you’d be a willing participant in the act of sexual intercourse anywhere outside 221B. Of course, one set of data isn’t enough. We need at least three for a valid result. Four, to be absolutely sure.” He takes a sip from the bottle like the said uncultured swine. Elegantly, since he _is_  still Sherlock Holmes. But still, like an uncultured swine, John thinks.

John laughs and zips up his coat. Of course he’d be willing to shag anywhere - even at the Pal- no, maybe not at the Palace - as long as it’s with Sherlock.

-

The sudden autumn chill greets John when the two step out of the booth. People in line stare at them strangely, but John doesn’t bother to lower his post-coital glow. By the state of Sherlock, John can easily guess how he looks himself - thoroughly shagged. But the thought really doesn’t help John feel any warmer. He shivers slightly. Sherlock stops him and puts his scarf around John’s open neck. It’s wet with Sherlock’s sweat, but John’s perfectly okay with it. It’s warm. And it smells like Sherlock. A major bonus.

They grin at each other and walk up to a taxi.

-

The next day, Sherlock receives a small package and a letter.

 

**Dear Mr. Sherlock Holmes,**

On behalf of EDF Energy London Eye, I would like to express gratitude for using our services.

It seems to us that you have enjoyed your stay at the Cupid’s Capsule from 6:15 PM to 6:45 PM last night. Quite thoroughly, too, if I may say.

Here are your belongings you have left with us before leaving, including the string of 9 unopened condoms. I can assure you that this item has not been handled any more than necessary by our employees. Also, the unopened Luxury box of Hotel Chocolat Pink Champagne Truffles is for you to keep.

We regret to inform you that you have been banned from returning to us and using the London Eye, as it is a valuable landmark to London and very much for the public. We carry many tourists from all over the world and I’m sure that you wouldn’t want the Queen’s country to receive a bad reputation for such a simple human action.

Again, thank you for using us.

 **Michael Pierce**  
Managing Director  
EDF Energy London Eye

P.S. We thank you for providing us with a reason to replace the carpet in the Capsule, as the stains of last evening would not come off.

 

 


End file.
